


Only A Moment

by JailynnW



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU after epsiode 4, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, As of right now a one shot, D&D can suck it, Dany is queen, F/M, Feelings are discussed, Female Friendships, Females having each others back, Forget episodes 5 and 6 of season 8, Happy Ending, Jon is king, Love, Love Confessions, Minor Tyrion Lannister/Sansa Stark, Not joking lots of angst, Smut, but doesn't much follow it, deals with slut shaming, fixing the ending to season 8 my way, is based on season 8, might add a chapter later if any one wants one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 03:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19142422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JailynnW/pseuds/JailynnW
Summary: There was a line of Lords and Ladies waiting for their turn to gaze upon the royal couple. The groups spoke with fevered enthusiasm. She envied them. She wished she felt as excited to be at court. Her whole life she had actively avoided this embarrassment.





	Only A Moment

**Author's Note:**

> My wonderful Beta merrymaya give me 4 fiction ideas and this was one: 
> 
> Jaime has regained his status as a honorable knight after all his motivations are revealed and women are desperate to claim him. Show him in court uncomfortable with the women pursuing him and Brienne's reaction to the situation.  
> \------------  
> I do hope I did it justice, she said I did, but she's kind to me. LOL Oh and it's been a while since I've written smut. Heaven help me I hope it's good...  
> \---------  
> All characters belong to GRRM, HBO and others more worthy not I, if you come for me, I'm afraid you will not get much..

[](https://imgur.com/5YKu6F7)

Beautiful art work done by Ro Nordmann- thank you so much  
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“Welcome, Lady-” The young man at the entrance stopped. His face flushing with color. “Er- Ser Brienne of Tarth.” He bowed low as he opened the door. “The Queen and King are most pleased you have come.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly and nodded her head before entering the castle. 

There was a line of Lords and Ladies waiting for their turn to gaze upon the royal couple. The groups spoke with fevered enthusiasm. She envied them. She wished she felt as excited to be at court. Her whole life she had actively avoided this embarrassment. The few times her father had made her come were forever seared in her brain. It was funny to think about how little has changed. She absentmindedly reached for her sword only to remember it was hanging on a hook at the inn she was residing in until she could escape this hellish place. The only weapon she carried, because she had to carry something, was a small dagger with a black handle dotted sapphires on the cross hilt and tied with sturdy cloth at the top of her thigh. It was a gift from Sansa when she released her from her service.

_“Brienne,” her friend said with happy tears in her eyes, “You have fulfilled your oath to my mother. You have also completed your vow to me. I release you. I want you to be free to go where your heart takes you.”_

_“My heart is here,” Brienne insisted- and if it was a lie, well, it was hers to believe. “I'm happy to lead your army and stand by your side.”_

_“You will always be welcome at my side,” Sansa smiled at her. “You will always have a home at Winterfell for as long as you wish to stay.” The redhead smiled at her and handed over a thin box with a corded ribbon around it. Brienne took the gift with shaking hands and gasped at the blade inside. “I wanted to give you something to say thank you. It took Gendry a while to make it to my liking,” the Northern Queen grinned. “I'm not sure he will be responding to any of my ravens for the next several moon turns.”_

_“It's...” Brienne tried not to cry. She paused taking deep breaths to stop the waves of emotion from overwhelming her. “It's beautiful. Thank you, Your Grace.”_

_“Sansa,” the younger girl said. “You can call me by my given name.” She took her large hand in her smaller ones. “Friends don't require titles.”_

_Brienne felt a warming peace settle in her heart. It was nice to have a true friend- a true female friend. She was aware how rare and beautiful those relationships could be._

Her father pleaded with her to come home after the great war. Brienne knew he had to have heard the rumors about her. Her greatest shame was dishonoring him; their family name, which was what kept her at Winterfell. The ravens sent back and forth were full of underlining messages. Selwyn telling her that while he was not pleased with her choice, he loved her and would move mountains to help mend her broken spirit. Hers telling him that she didn't want to bring any more ignominy to him, that her burden should not be shared. She loved him too, but she would not be moved. She also pleaded with him to not contact Jaime. It was her choice to live with and regret. She did not want her father to fight her battles for her. That missive was met with a long winded letter about a father's right to defend his daughter's honor. Brienne responded by reminding him she has been defending her own honor since she was seven and ten and nearly married her off to a man three times her age. 

He shut up about Jaime after that... And made a promise that the next time she was on Tarth, he would make sure baker Harton would make her the cookies she loved best. Her mouth watered for two weeks after just thinking about it...

Brienne shook the memories from her mind and focused on the now. The great hall in the Red Keep was decorated in the Targaryen house colors. The three headed dragon sigil lifted high above them, demanding respect. Every bit of the Lannister emblems house scourged from the castle and yards. Cold gold no longer dominated the lascivious space, instead it was the fire and dragons. It was a strange feeling walking in and seeing ' _Fire and Blood_ ' rather than _Hear Me Roar_. The months after the great war were filled with uncertainty. No one knew what to expect from the Dragon Queen. The tales of her adventures were embellished in some spots and in others didn't give her the credit she deserved. The small folk, who heard less about her than the wealthy, were cautious. The new monarchs seemed kind but after so many tyrants, the citizens of King's Landing were on guard. Those emotions were dissipating quickly though. Especially since the people were being fed and more freedoms were granted to them than ever before.

The new queen, Daenerys was sitting rigidly on the throne, her pale green dress, light and airy; her violet eyes soft and watchful. Taking the chair to her right was her nephew-lover-husband Jon Snow- or really Aegon Targaryen. Although no one called him that and no one said anything about the incest being alluded to. If someone did bring it up, it was quickly dismissed with a tight-lipped response of _“It's the Targaryen way.”_ On her left was the hand of the Queen, Tyrion Lannister. 

Brienne moved further into the room, awaiting her turn to greet the couple. She was careful in her movements, hoping to draw as little attention to herself as possible. A feat that, truthfully, was for naught. It was hard to miss a woman who was six feet five, larger than most males and had a face that could curdle milk. She grimaced then smoothed out her expression when her name was announced and she stepped up to the dais. After a moment of hesitation, she bowed instead of curtsied. Her eyes met the Queen's, who smiled genuinely at her and did not seem to be offended by the act. 

“Ser Brienne,” Daenerys said with ease. “I'm so pleased you have come to celebrate with us. Please enjoy the evening and make yourself at home.”

The King nodded in her direction, a mild expression on his face. He never showed much emotion. Brienne bowed to him as well.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Brienne replied with just the right amount of respect. 

Tyrion's mismatched eyes met hers and she pleaded with him silently to not alert anyone of her presence before she was ready to face them. _Which will be never,_ a small voice whispered in her head. A frown crossed his features, he didn't like what she was asking, but he gave a subtle nod anyway. She was reminded of her journey to this very castle six moon turns before. She had asked him to keep her secret then too. Brienne didn't wish to put the dwarf in the middle but it was necessary for her sanity and her fragile heart.

As soon as she turned from the couple, the whispers started. She heard her name mentioned more than once. Women were uncomplimentary, men were just as cruel. She didn't need to hear the entirety of the conversations to know some of what they were saying. She's heard it before and will most likely hear it for the rest of her life. Brienne the Beauty- the jeering name- her burden to bear. She was infamous for her unattractive qualities.

Not to mention she was known, in all the seven kingdoms, for her knighting at the hands of Jaime Lannister. Brienne was also known for being bedded and left by the same man for the previous queen- his twin sister. The fact that it had been to kill her and save the realm was only a footnote in her tragic story. Rumor mongers loved the details until they stopped being scandalous. 

The thing was... the story only reflected badly on _her._ Brienne, barely a woman in some eyes- but still held to the same standards of chastity- was the one who gave herself to a man out of wedlock; she _dared_ to take pleasure and explore her sexuality without taking vows. Stories about how bad she must have been as a lover that _he_ had to seek out his sister were told by soldiers who didn't appreciate being passed over for a woman. It was a great jape she heard while trying hard to get over her broken heart.

_“Really! Can you blame him?” one brawny officer- not much older than Brienne- had laughed. “It must have been torture to see that face every time he woke up.”_

_“Aye,” another officer said with a laugh. “Sister fucking is definitely better I'd say.”_

She did take great pleasure in knocking those that mocked her to the ground. Podrick had even taken a few swings at them. The words were hushed now, but she wasn't foolish enough to think they were silenced. The shame she felt when others looked at her was worse than any she experienced before. It was like being ripped open, examined and found to be nothing but a worthless cunt. Brienne tried to hold her head up high. She had people on her side, powerful people; but it didn't stop the words from invading her head when she was alone, in that room where he made her feel loved. The cruel jests became a toxin in her veins. It poisoned her mind so completely she couldn't help but want to hide away from the world. Like the long tentacles of a kraken pulling her down into the depths of the ocean; she was swallowed up. Their relationship became distorted, warped and hazed over with disgrace. Hers not his, for he was a man and he could do as he pleased- take a lover or not- it would never be seen as something to frown upon. 

Brienne slid against the wall, keeping herself away from the middle of the room. She tried not to notice the stares around her. Her sapphire eyes locking on the ground as she took several steadying breaths and hunched in on herself to appear smaller. The hair on the back of her neck was standing up from all the glances she couldn't see but could definitely feel. The looks ran the spectrum- pity at being foolish enough to believe a man would want her, revulsion at having to look upon her, amusement that she was even able to face court with everyone knowing that she was nothing but a momentary lapse in judgment for the Golden lion of house Lannister. Brienne felt them all. Felt it _deeply._

The broken pieces of conversations were gathering in intensity and became nearly impossible to block out. She was back in _his_ world. This place always felt like a pair of boots too tight for her giant feet. She was too large and ugly and stuck out in the crowd of beautiful, cultured people. By being here in their presence, her transgressions were pushed to the front of their minds; the homely half woman who tried to take the former queen's lover. She could almost hear the clicking of teeth as they chirped like birds. The girl who stepped too close to the lion's mouth and was left ruined in the end. In the gossip swirling around her, Cersei's name was whispered and hers was ridiculed and Jaime's was pitied. Both for having to kill his true love and for momentarily forgetting himself by bedding her. 

She wished for the millionth time since stepping foot in King's Landing that her father could have been here instead. Had he not gotten sick. Had there been anyone else. Had the show of faith and fealty to the crown not been so important politically... she would have flat out refused to come. But she couldn't. This was part of her duty as heir to Tarth; to being the next Evenstar when her father passes. Still, she was _miserable_. 

The one saving grace she had in her favor was that Queen Daenerys was aware of the delicate situation she found herself in and wasn't making a show of her being here. The raven she had sent to Brienne made her feelings known. Woman to woman, she understood and did not wish to cause the knight any more distress. Still, it would have been bad form to not show up at all; Tarth wasn't a big island but it was still necessary to appear unified. 

_Why,_ she thought. _Why can't I just disappear?_

Her heart was pounding roughly in her chest. She was sure that at any moment, the organ would burst from her rib cage and end up on the floor, flopping around like a fish gasping for air. She pulled at the sleeves of her dress nervously. Sansa took great care in having the royal blue garment made for her. Brienne was shocked that it did not make her look completely hideous. It did not make her beautiful either. She would say her appearance was plain. Which to anyone with eyes, was a vast improvement over her normal state. 

A waiter passed by her carrying a tray of exotic looking foods. Tiny foods for tiny, delicate hands. The young man stopped holding out the platter to her. She glanced at her fingers- long and thick- and shook her head, mumbling a _'No, thank you.'_ She was trying not to cause a scene and if she knocked over a tray of food while trying to pick up just one, she would. 

The small dance floor was filled with couples dancing in complicated circles. Brienne's eyes followed the steps in awe. She never learned the art of these movements. Her grace was limited to swordplay. And she was fine with that. It helped that no one approached her. Sometimes her ugliness was actually a blessing. 

If she could, she would blend in with the tapestry until it was an acceptable time for her to go. She just yearned for this night to be over. She craved to be away from here. Her eyes cut across the room toward the man she had given her heart to; the man currently surrounded by all the eligible- and not so eligible- women in the realm. She wanted to be away from _him._ It hurt like the seven hells to be in the same room.

Jaime Lannister- the man formally known to all as the Kingslayer, Oathbreaker, man without honor- was now the most sought after gentleman in all the seven kingdoms. News of his deeds, both past and present were spread far and wide. His name, once spit upon, was written into songs. His heroic pursuits were whispered about behind women's fans with girlish giggles and men's mugs of ale. He wasn't hated any longer. No he was _adored_. And Brienne could not blame anyone for their feelings for him, when hers were the same. Or they had been before...

Word had gotten back to Winterfell about all the women who were throwing themselves at him. At first, she was a darkly amused- had they learned nothing from her folly? Jaime was a one woman man and that woman was rotting in the ground. Then the fear set in, maybe it wasn't that he _didn't_ desire others, maybe it was just that he didn't desire _her_. Maybe he came to realize that Cersei wasn't the reason he didn't want to stay with her, but it was as the cruel men said- waking up to her monstrous face had become too much for him. As more and more tales reached her ears, she realized he was probably enjoying himself greatly. He was finally free to explore and she had no doubt that she was woefully inadequate in comparison to those perfumed ladies who swooned in his direction. She would- could- never be that type of woman. 

The first time he wrote to her, after everything had settled in Kings Landing, she had cried for hours. His words had been simple. He was sorry. He wished he could change what happened. He never meant to hurt her. _Lies!_ A venomous voice hissed in her head- sounding too much like Septa Roelle for her liking, _You know the truth. You see it everyday in the looking glass._ She hadn't written back. Her heart had been too broken to try and sooth his guilt. Any other letters he wrote went into the fire in her room, unread, kindle for the flame.

Her eyes narrowed as she took him in. His hair had grown since the last time they had seen each other. His beard was more groomed and less wild. He looked good; but then again, she had always thought he looked good. Even when she hated him, she had thought he was handsome. She couldn't deny the obvious... The women surrounded him like sharks circled their prey, leaned into him, placed hands on his arms, laughed at things he said. 

_He isn't that humorous,_ She thought with some jealousy. He seemed to enjoy the attention. There was a raven haired woman to his left who pressed her cleavage against his arm, making him jump a little. Brienne noticed the stares of others. Jealous at how close she got to the man with the golden hand. Jaime moved to his right, only to be accosted by another female. Her eyes batted in his direction. Her stomach lurched at the blatant show of attraction. He was free to do what he wanted now. Jaime was able to bed whomever he craved. She just didn't want to have to _see_ it. Hearing stories about all the Lords presenting him with their gorgeous and young daughters was hard enough. This was a whole new level of torture.

He must have felt her gaze on him, because he looked up, searching before finding her by the doors of the balcony. She swallowed at being caught in his stare. Her insides fluttered nervously. He smiled at her a little sadly, waving his golden hand in her direction. Her heart pounded harder than ever and she turned, walking through the balcony doors. Away from his sight.

She stood against the stone railing, looking out at the sky, breathing deeply. Her heart returned to a normal pace away from the judgmental eyes of the Westeros's elite. She shouldn't have come. She should have stayed far away, convincing herself that she did not love him anymore and she could live without him in her life. Brienne should have known better. 

“My Lady,” her back stiffened and her eyes closed tightly. She had to suppress a shiver at the sound of his voice. “Brienne...”

Turning around, her stomach flipped. He was standing so close. So close she would not have to even extend her arm to touch him. His green eyes seemed to capture some of the stars with how they shone at her. Her body yearned to be wrapped up, around, with his and she had to force her feet to stay still. “Ser Jaime...”

\----><\---

Jaime was _miserable_. He was bored out of his mind by the party and the ones yapping at him like dogs demanding attention. He sipped his wine, smiling tightly at the group gathered around him. The realm had finally claimed him worthy after his trial in Winterfell revealed his true motivations for killing the mad king, and his heroics during the battle against the dead. He was suddenly seen as a great knight with honor who gallantly sacrificed everything for the people. 

He hid his grimace by taking a longer sip from his goblet. It was a bunch of horse shit as far as he was concerned. He was the same man he had always been, only now these simpering ladies knew the truth. They knew what really transpired in Robert's Rebellion and that made him a desirable prospect for marriage. He was sought after by Lords for their daughters to wed and by women of means- widowed or lonely- for a tumble in the sheets. The Golden Lion of house Lannister was once again lusted after openly instead of behind lowered eyelids. 

The woman to his right laid her hand on his arm, right above his gilded hand. It took every bit of his willpower not to jerk away from her touch. Her touch felt wrong to him. Her hands were too small and lacked the strength he craved. Her frame didn't fill his vision and make him want to bathe in her glorious light. None of these women were unique and real. He could see the snakes in their eyes. Their blushes were false, a tool used to make him believe them innocent. Jaime knew innocence. Had held it in his arms. This display... He didn't want it. He wanted another set of hands on him, but he feared that those rough and gentle palms would never deem him worthy again. 

With as much tact as he could muster, he moved his arm to dislodge her hand. Jaime could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on and took another gulp of wine to help ease it. Being thrust into court, paraded around for all to see was becoming tiresome. Queen Daenerys loved having Lord Lannister in her court, at her every whim. He was her show of mercy. He played his role; it could be worse as he often admitted to himself.

Jaime let his eyes wander across the crowded hall. Tyrion had assured him that she would be there. His younger brother told him that Sansa and her father were making her make an appearance at least, as the heir of Tarth. So far he hadn't seen his giantess and the crushing depression of missing her was weighing heavily on him. The way they left things at Winterfell haunted him. Her tearful eyes pleading with him to stay with her, while he pushed her hands off his face and left her without so much as a parting kiss or an explanation. He came back to Kings Landing to make Cersei surrender so no innocents would get harmed. The battle between two powerful women, both believing they had a more legitimate right to the throne than the other, was a recipe for disaster. 

Neither side had been willing to give in and he had been able to see the dye being cast. Cersei had been ready to go out in a blaze- either one by dragon fire or one by wildfire, she didn't seem to care. The madness in her green eyes had been frightening and familiar. He was back in the throne room, staring down a tyrant who was willing to burn them all. Jaime's stomach had lurched thinking about his sweet sister's defiant glee at winning at all costs. The moment he had known there was no other way, he had wept silently. Killing Cersei was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do, but he had done it. And just like the last time- an honorable Stark or was it Snow or Targaryen- botheration!- he could not keep track- had found him with blood on his sword and a dead body at his feet.

Jon had been much quicker to believe in Jaime's intentions than his father. It was only for reason he got to keep his head and his title as Lord Lannister. His name suddenly meant something again. He could walk down the streets of Kings Landing to the sound of cheers and not jeers. It was freeing- at first, then his mind turned to Brienne of Tarth and his heart plummeted to his feet. 

While he was exulted for his deeds and heroics, he knew she was shamed for hers. She was talked about and mocked because of him. The act of giving herself to him, in love and trust, was turned against her. He heard the whispers and the jokes made at her expense and took great pleasure in slapping all those craven, cockered wantwits who spoke ill of her with his heavy golden hand. Some expected him to be thrown into the black cells for his actions- him being one of those people- but he learned that Brienne had admirers in highest places- the dragon Queen didn't take kindly to the remarks about the lady knight. Soon he didn't hear the japes anymore, but he knew they were still spoken out of his presence.

In his mind- just before a restless sleep took him under to dream of better times- he thought he could hear them again. His phantom right hand would clench. His body tensed for a fight. The words- whore, cunt, slut, worthless, ruined- chased each other in his brain. He ran through every one with his blade who even uttered a ill word against her in his fantasies. 

He wrote to her after the trial. He needed to make it right. He couldn't live with her thinking... She didn't respond. No matter how desperate and frantic he became in his letters, nothing came from her. With every raven he sent in the hopes she would answer, Jaime lost a piece of his soul. The lack of knowledge became maddening and he used others to find out how she was. From Sansa -through Tyrion, because she was quite crossed with him and also refused to answer his dire pleas- he heard she was settling into her new life with grace and did not inquire about _the other Lannister_ at all. From Podrick- he learned that she fine and would appreciate him leaving her be. From Bran- a letter he did not expect- he learned that Brienne was not crying over him any longer. She understood why he had done what he did, but did not wish to see him. He also said that they would not see each other for many moon turns. 

That last part had devastated him. It also had turned out to be true. Brienne had come to the capital once on business for Sansa, but she made sure to never see _him_. The meetings with the new royal couple were done in secret and she had left the city before he even knew she was there. Tyrion knew. His brother had told him guiltily that Brienne had asked, _insisted_ , that Jaime be left unaware of her trip to Kings Landing. Jaime had gotten drunk that night. He hadn't remembered much, but he did recall the pain of her rejecting him eased with drink- so he drunk. 

Now, almost a year later, he was going to see her for the first time. His hand shook a little as he did another sweep of the guests. He caught his brother's eyes from the dais and the dwarf shook his head. Hope crashed into pieces inside him. He couldn't help the thoughts entering his mind- he might never see her again. She might never want to be in his presence again. 

He let himself wallow in self pity while trying to- at least- appear interested in the conversations of the women around him. Jaime was practiced in the art of court. He knew when to laugh and for how long. He knew when to nod and seem attentive. He used all his skills to charm the women without ever truly listening to what they were saying. 

He thought for a moment that he heard her name being announced. But by the time he managed to see around the hordes of “honored” guests, the next couple was brought forth and he sank back into despair. The lights around him turned as dull as the conversation he was forcing himself to endure. The lady to left him, boldly thrust her ample breasts against his arm. He jumped a little at the forwardness of her actions. Jaime was becoming uncomfortably accustomed to the flirting he was receiving but it was so obvious he was unnerved. He subtly moved to his right only to be mulled by another highborn lady. 

Her painted red lips lifted in what he assumed she thought was a seductive smirk and she leaned in to whisper, “I would be pleased if we could meet alone somewhere, Ser Jaime. Your stories are so entertaining and brave. I'd love to hear more.”

“Lady Madelyn,” he chuckled to break the tension. “I'm afraid all my good stories have already been told. While it is flattering that you find them interesting, I do have to wonder what your betrothed would think of his Lady sneaking off with another Lord.” Her smirk dropped a little. “I would hate to cause such a scandal.”

“My Lord,” she recovered quickly. “I only ask for more stories. Whatever were you thinking of?”

Jaime wanted to roll his eyes. He wished to recoil from her with force, but he smothered his anger and smiled in a biting way, “My Lady, forgive me.” He did his best to appear contrite. “I fear I've been led to believe you would care for more than just my stories. My sweet sister used to push against my arm in such a fashion-” Lady Janisa, the raven haired woman laid her breasts on him had the grace to blush, while Lady Madelyn only arched her brow. “And we know what kind of relationship was alluded to between us.” 

“Rumors,” the brunette said, “Just like the ones between you and Lady- oh I'm forgive me, My Lord- Ser Brienne.”

He flexed his left hand. His knuckles grazing the metal of his sword. He would not kill her. But he really, really wanted to put her in her place.

A sweet faced girl, giggled uneasily. “Ser Jaime,” her voice was as young as she appeared. “I was wondering if you could tell us about how you knighted Ser Brienne. It was a bold move to make a lady a knight. Tradition was so clear, what made you give her that honor?”

Jaime almost smiled for real at her. She didn't have the claws of a practiced lady of the court. She still had some innocence in her. Because she asked a question he honestly wanted to answer, he did, “I knighted her because she deserves it. Her bravery and honor far exceed my own and others who claim the title.”

The young girl smiled at him. He liked her. It was going to be sad when her sweetness turned bitter like so many others before her. He could only hope, that she found a match, it would be one where love could blossom and not one that would break her.

After a little while, he felt the weight of a stare on him. His head snapped up and he tried to find the source. His heart pounded and blood rushed hotly through his veins when he saw her. Brienne was here. She was standing by the wall, looking as uncomfortable as he felt. He greedily looked her over. Gods but he had missed her. Her blonde hair was curling against her shoulders, longer and darker than the last time he had seen it. Her face was anxious, flushing red with nerves. But it was her eyes- those innocent, gorgeous eyes- which pulled him in. Just like they always have. The royal blue of her dress made them stand out even more and he was dying to get lost in them.

He smiled sadly at her. He hated the distance- both the physical and the emotional, that kept them apart. Jaime waved at her and she spun on her heel, leaving the room swiftly. Seeing her retreat flipped something inside of him. He gulped the rest of his wine, gathering courage from the tart drink. He would not let her go this time, not without a fight.

_I'm not letting you out of my sight that easily wench,_ he thought as he moved away from the group he had been conversing with. He shot a glance at Tyrion. His dear brother stepped down from his place by Daenarys and was walking over to Sansa, but their eyes locked. His younger brother gave him a small smile and a nod of approval. Jaime did not need his approval, but it was nice to have it all the same. He pushed through the crowd, growing annoyed at not getting to the balcony faster. _Move the fuck out of my way,_ he wanted to scream at them. 

When he finally reached her, it was like the air became to thin to breathe. He was nearly giddy, drunk on the feeling of being so close. The moonlight caressed the tops of her creamy shoulders as she leaned against the stone railing. He had never felt so jealous of the moon before. Her back was straight and tense. He longed to run his hand and lips along her muscles to relieve the stress bound there. 

“My lady,” his voice was deeper even to his own ears. Yearning seeped into the words. “Brienne...”

She turned around to face him. The air was sucked out of his lungs and he thought for a moment he would pass out. “Ser Jaime...”

\----><\---

_Why does he have to be so damned attractive,_ she mused to herself. _Couldn't he have the decency to at least be a little less handsome?_

No he couldn't. The Gods had blessed him with so much. Her hands closed tightly, nails biting into flesh to stop herself from tracing the line of his beard. She knew she was breathing but it felt like there wasn't enough air in her lungs. _Could I die from missing someone too much?_ She wanted to press herself close to him and inhale the scent of his skin. The night air blew against her back, sending her hair forward to cover her cheek. He reached out and slid the strands behind her ear. _Do not react,_ she commanded herself. _Do not let him know have much you want him._

Her body shivered all over.

“Are you cold?” he asked, taking another step toward her.

_Gods no_ she made a small sound, half way between a whimper and a moan. She had never felt so hot. Brienne shook her head. Her tongue felt too heavy to form words. She fought the urge to lean into him, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. His thumb traced her neck, sliding up and down. Her pulse jumped. She knew he felt it, his eyes traveled down her neck to her bust line, her modest breasts raising and falling with each breath. 

He took a step forward, his hand not moving from her skin. Heat flushed through her, settling equally in her cheeks and low in her belly. Her lips pressed together to stop stupid words, like _kiss me please_ and _I've missed you_ , from spilling forth. His green eyes flared with arousal and his gaze fell to her lips. She saw him angle his head up slightly, his eyes never leaving her mouth. It was like he was moving in slow motion. Her stomach wouldn't settle as he continued to invade her space.

They were locked in a trance. Brienne could only see him, could only feel him. The hard press of his body against hers awakened every nerve ending in her. Her mind was fogging up with need. Somewhere deep, _deep_ inside, she knew she should step back and get away. That being so close was dangerous to her fragile heart, but she just couldn't force her body to cooperate. 

His thumb brushed against her bottom lip and her eyelids slid shut again. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to the corner of hers. It was just a light touch, but it sent her heart racing. Her lips parted on a sigh. That was all the invitation Jaime needed and he slanted his mouth over hers. She moaned softly. Her entire world revolved around his kiss. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers carding through the short, soft hairs at the nape of his neck. Her knees felt weak and he wrapped his right arm around her to keep her close, to keep her upright. He sagged with her a little as her weight fell on him, a small sound left his throat but he never attempted to let her go. His grip tightened to accommodate her. She could have melted into a puddle right there at his feet, but he anchored her to him. 

Jaime slid his tongue past her lips, sweeping the inside of her mouth and enticing her tongue to meet his in a dance. She moaned again. He let out a rumbling growl in response, pulling her even closer to him. The kiss was like coming home after being gone for too long. She melted and was set ablaze by his touch. Brienne dropped one of her hands from his hair and gripped his strong upper arm. Feeling the muscles bunch and flex under her palm. 

The clothes between them became an annoyance to her. She wanted skin caressing skin. She wanted what they had in Winterfell. She _wanted_ him so badly it felt like she was dying from desire. The hand placed on her cheek slowly moved down her neck, his fingertips tracing the lines of her body. He nipped at her bottom lip, pulling it between his and sucking at the flesh. This wasn't a fair fight. He had her completely at his mercy. She tugged lightly at his hair, tangling the locks between her long fingers. His response was to kiss her deeper and she pushed against him with as much passion. 

_They already think me a whore,_ she thought as she pulled harder on the material of his jerkin. _What does it matter if we come together for one night? I would be the one to leave this time. _I_ could take what he is offering, what I want and walk away from him. Just one last moment..._

A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye at her thoughts. No, she couldn't do that. She pulled away slowly, reluctantly breaking the connection. He tried to follow her lips, wanting to savor being back in her arms. She shifted further from him. Brienne felt his eyes on her but she didn't look up. The tears would not stop. The truth was, even as unconventional as she was, she wanted the fairy tale. She wanted the knight in her story to want her as much as she wanted him. She wanted to be loved. She _wanted_ it all.

“Brienne,” he whispered, his voice husky from lust and thick with something she couldn't decipher. “Please look at me.”

It seemed like she couldn't deny him anything, because at that simple plea, her eyes met his. “Jaime, I-”

“Ser Jaime,” a petite brunette with hazel eyes rushed onto the balcony, interrupting whatever Brienne was going to say. 

He turned to face the woman, his body tensed immediately and smiled tightly at her, “Lady Madelyn.” His eyes moved to Brienne's for a moment. “I'm actually-”

The young woman placed her hand upon his arm, her fingernail running up and down. She completely ignored her standing next to the railing. Brienne didn't exist for this other female. She wasn't even worth looking at. “Everyone has been looking for you. You didn't finish your story earlier. I told you earlier how much I enjoy your stories,” Lady Madelyn smiled coyly at him. “The party is quite boring without you.”

Brienne couldn't take it anymore. She used the woman distracting Jaime to her benefit and quietly left the balcony and the ball. 

“Brienne,” Jaime called out to her but she quickened her steps.

She had stayed long enough. Sansa and her father would understand... They would have to because she was already out the door and refused to turn back now.

\----><\---

Jaime cursed under his breath when he finally detached the damnable woman from his side, only to realize Brienne was gone from the ball. He briefly wondered if he could convince his brother to lock Lady Madelyn in the black cells for all eternity. Let the rats have her. He would be doing her betrothed a favor in the long run. 

He had enough of this hiding. Brienne wanted him. He _felt_ that. He felt her tremble at his touch and how her body sagged against his. He stormed into the great hall past the women grabbing at him, the dancers twirling on the floor and headed for the one person who might help him. Sansa stood with Tyrion, laughing softly at something his dear brother said. Jaime noticed how besotted the dwarf looked, staring up at the Queen of the North. 

The duo looked up at him as he approached. Sansa's eyes turned colder while Tyrion looked mildly amused. His brother, his _loving_ brother, was always entertained by the thought that the great golden knight was a bumbling fool when it came to the one woman he loved. Tyrion was quite aware of the feelings the knights had for each other and the younger man was waiting for it to boil over. 

_Well,_ Jaime thought. _The time has come._

“Where is she staying?” He asked in way of greeting. His brother's eyebrows shot up. 

Sansa, on the other hand, stayed cool. “I do not think that is any concern of yours. She has made her feelings known. Ser Brienne is not interested in being used and cast aside.” Her icy blue eyes cut him, “If she wished for you to know where she was residing, she would have informed you herself.”

His teeth ground together. Tyrion sighed into his cup and looked up at the beautiful woman at his side, “Can you take some pity on his pathetic soul, your Grace,” despite her obvious dislike for Jaime, she fought not to smile at his brother. “I mean really, my dear brother is woefully childish in the ways of romance.” Jaime stood up straighter and glared down at the dwarf. “But can you blame him? Cersei was as warm as the Night King and just as friendly.”

Sansa did laugh at that, but she did so behind her hand. He started plotting ways to hurt his brother for that comment. He couldn't dispute the claims of Cersei's kindness or warmth, but still he really wished his brother had left their sweet sister out of this. He was never going to get Brienne back at this pace. Sansa turned her eyes back to his and pursed her lips in thought.

“Should I take pity on you?” Her question wasn't asked for him to answer. It was her puzzling out what she should do; so Jaime- for once- did the smart thing and waited. “If I tell you what you want to know, will you hurt her again?”

“I might,” he was not going to lie. The redhead arched her brow. “And she might hurt me. I can not promise that will never happen, but I can promise that I will do everything in my power _not_ to.” He was close to pleading. He was not even embarrassed by that honestly. In fact, he would drop to his knees if he had to, if it would make her tell him where his warrior was. “Queen Sansa,” he swallowed. “Where is she?”

Her pink lips parted on a long, suffering sigh and she hung her head, “Gods, I hope I am doing the right thing.” She muttered to the floor. Hope bloomed in his heart. The auburn haired girl looked up and sighed again, “First let me make it clear, if you make her cry again like you did at Winterfell, I will do everything in my power to make you an eunuch and feed the meat removed to my hounds. Do we understand each other?” He fought not to place his golden hand over his manhood. No man wanted his cock threatened but he knew this was not a simple threat, it was a promise. Jaime would accept the risk to have Brienne back in his life. His brother laughed outright at his nod. “Very well.” Jaime waited anxiously for her to tell him what he wanted to know. She smoothed her hand down the front of her black and gray dress, “She's staying at the Kings Cross Inn.” Her blue eyes flared, “Do _not_ make me regret telling you.”

He bent low at the waist, taking her hand in his and kissed her knuckles quickly, “Thank you.”

Jaime rushed from the party to Brienne.

\----><\---

Brienne was thankful she hadn't unpacked much from her trunk. The few items she did would be easily enough put back in the heavy wooden case. She sat heavily on the bed. She couldn't wait to be away from this place. She pulled at the strings at the bodice of her dress, loosening them enough to slide the garment from her body. Standing she let the material pool around her feet. She sighed in relief at being released from the heavy dress. 

She was thankful for Sansa having the gown made for her. It truly was beautiful, but she would never be a lady and no dress was going to change that. She gathered the material in her arms and carefully placed it on top of the rest of the items in her trunk. Her under tunic was laid out on the bed earlier and she reached for it when someone knocked at her door. She startled at the sound, not expecting anyone. Brienne did not believe Sansa would come this late and no one else really knew where she was.

With great apprehension, she slipped the tunic over her head, and grabbed the dagger still strapped to her thigh. The cloth fell away from her leg as she gripped the knife in her hand ready for whomever was on the other side of the door. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door only slightly to see around the wood. Jaime stared at her with fire in his green eyes. She gaped at him and unconsciously opened the door wider. He took that as an invitation, walking past her to stand in the middle of her room. Right by the bed. The very big bed made for two. She placed the dagger on the table next to her. _Fuck!_

She closed the door slowly, leaning against the hard wood for support. His gaze darkened and his lips parted. “You left,” he said.

“You looked like you were busy,” Brienne answered. 

“I was,” he stepped toward her. “And then we were interrupted.” He did not physically reach out for her, but she felt his touch all the same. It was in his expression. Hungry and needy. He looked at her like a starving man looked at a table full of delectable food. He looked at her like he wanted to devour her. “You left before we could continue.”

“Jaime,” her head and heart hurt and she didn't want to have this discussion. She wanted to ride back to Winterfell to be with Pod and her men at arms. Brienne wanted to pretend that she didn't still love him, as if her entire body didn't _ache_ with passion for him. She barely survived their doomed relationship last time, she didn't think she was strong enough to try again. “Please go. I'm surethat if you are looking for a quick tumble in the sheets, you can find someone. I'm so very tired and do not wish to be your _whore_ for the night.” The word that has been on her mind all night, was said with bitterness.

Jaime jerked back as if slapped. “Is that what you think you are to me?” She refused to meet his eyes. Her feelings would be plain for even a blind man to see. “Brienne,” he started then stopped; closing the distance between them and lifting her chin up. She shut her eyes stubbornly. “Look at me, please.” He quietly asked of her. She kept them close and even moved to turn away from him. He growled and said harshly, “look _at_ me.”

_Damn him!_ His heated words did her in. She let her gaze meet his. 

“If I wanted just a warm cunt for my cock, you are right, I have plenty of options available to me,” she tried not to flinch. She really did, but couldn't stop the wince at his coarse words. His tone softened, “I do not want a whore for the night.” He caressed her cheek bone with his thumb. “I want _you._ I want your smile to be for me, your eyes on mine, your hands on my skin.” He slid his hand down her arm and took her hand, placing it over his heart, which was racing in time with hers. “I want your laugh. I want your body pressed against mine.” He pushed his form flush against her. The evidence of his need trapped between them, distracting her from what he was saying. “I want _you_. All of you.”

“Jaime...” she tried again. His words were weakening her knees and her resolve. “I know I can't... I can't go through this again.” Water gathered in her eyes, she tried to blink it away but only forced the tears to fall down her cheeks. “Please go.”

He took a deep breath, his own eyes clouding with moisture. “Is that what you really want?” She opened her mouth to confirm it was, but nothing came out. “Brienne,” he dropped his forehead to hers. “Tell me. Tell me and I'll do it. If you want me to leave,” he paused, swallowing roughly. “I'll go and I'll never bother you again.” Her heart lurched at that admission. “If you want to scream at me, berate me for hurting you. I will stand here and let you, for that's what I deserve. If you want me as only a friend, I will lock my feelings up and never burden you with them again. I will try to pretend that I don't wish you were next to me every moment of every day. I will give you space to move on. If it will make you happy, I will stand aside...” The tears in her eyes started gathering more quickly. She searched his face for deception. She could find none. His eyes were bright with unleashed tears and were honest. His hand gripped hers on his chest, over his heart. His soft lips brushed against her eyebrow. “But if you want me, as I want you, I will spend my life showing you how much I need you, desire you, _love_ you.”

“Love me,” she shook her head, grasping for her last defense- anger, pulling her hand from his. “You left me. You left me to cry and _went_ back to her and you claim to love me?” He opened his mouth but she shook her head again. “I know why you did it. I know that you had to, but you could have _told_ me the truth! Instead you left me in the cold to pick up the pieces and get mocked for being so horrible that my _lover_ thought fucking his sister was a better option.”

“I,” he stepped away from her, “I can not say how sorry I am for what I did to you. You should never have had to go through that and I hate myself for causing you so much pain. I would gladly take my sword and run through every single one of those bastards who made you feel like you weren't worthy. Because the truth is, _I'm_ the one not worthy of you. You have no idea how much I regret leaving you the way I did.” He chuckled darkly, the sound was not kind, “I have always been the stupidest Lannister.” She looked away, blinking rapidly. Cersei called him that. And he believed it. “If I could change it-”

“You can not.”

“No, I can not.” He admitted. “I can only ask you to forgive me and hope you will give me another chance.” Jaime pressed his body into hers again and lightly kissed her temple. “Please, let me make this right. I love you.”

She used to believe she was so strong willed, but she was powerless with him. She wanted so badly to believe that he meant what he said. There were words he had never used with her. In all the time they were together in Winterfell, he never said the word _love_. It was always _want_. Her heart yearned to trust him. She didn't know if she could. Her warring emotions must have played out on her face because he took her chin in his hand, his fingers curling around her thick neck and brushed his lips against hers. 

“I know you do not want to feel like my whore,” he whispered into her mouth. “No one should ever call you such a word.” He took a minute to calm down then said, “If you would have me, I will hunt down the nearest septon to marry us right now. The Gods know I want you forever at my side and would marry you this night without ever laying a hand on your magnificent body even if you did not wish to lay with me again before we are married in the eyes of the Gods. Just so I can claim you as my own and have you claim me as yours. The way it is supposed to be.” She blushed, hard. “I will do whatever you wish, my lady. Just say the word.”

“I wish,” she stopped then pushed forward, locking their mouths together again. Pulling away slowly, she looked into the liquid desire of his eyes and felt the tug deep within her. “I wish I did not love you.” Pain flashed across his face and she continued, “I wish that I didn't want you so badly. But, Jaime,” she kissed up his cheek to his temple, “I do. I want us. I want _you_ and I love _you_.” Brienne moved her head back to look into his eyes again. “If you are serious about wanting to- to-” she took a deep breath, “to marry me. I want that as well.”

Joy lit up his face and he kissed her deeply. Her body was on fire. She pressed as close as she could to him, his erection hot against her thigh. She moaned at the evidence of his desire. He broke off when the need for air became too great, taking her hand in his. “Get dressed,” he said breathlessly. “We need to find a septon. And Tyrion and Sansa. Queen Sansa would have my head if I married her friend without her being there.”

She grinned at his eagerness, “Tyrion would want to be there for you. But you think he would want to be present for another reason?”

“I think he would use the opportunity to put seeds in Queen Sansa's head about their own relationship. He is quite taken with her.” He grinned and tugged her arm again. “Come on, Wench, we have a septon to find.”

“No,” she laughed at the absurdity of that. “No, I can't marry you tonight. I want my father with me when I make my vows to you.” He looked disappointed but understanding. 

“Of course, my lady,” he nodded then openly stared at her. A wicked smile curled his lips at her state of undress. The tunic only fell to the tops of her thighs and was not completely closed at the neck. She wrapped her arms around herself at his appraisal. His smile only grew. She felt a little like a rabbit locked in the sights of a lion. Which in some ways, she was. He took a step forward, she one back, only to find herself flush with the door and no way to escape. “Tell you don't want this and I'll leave.”

She knew he would. He would never push himself on anyone. His moral code might be a little off at times but when he came to this, he was true. And honestly, he wouldn't have to force anything. Her insides were liquid and need was pulsing at the apex of her thighs. She laid her hands on his chest and slid them down his sides. He sucked in his breath, his mouth crashing back on hers. She moaned deeply, her blunt nails digging into the material of his leather jerkin. He was wearing too many layers, but under it all she could felt heat radiating off of him. 

He licked at her full bottom lip, the tip following the seam until she opened for his probing tongue. She tried to undo his buttons but her hands felt clumsy and thick. Her huff of frustration, caused him to laugh against her mouth. She tipped her head back. Her mind cleared a little and she set back to work on getting him free from all his clothes. The jerkin fell from his shoulders and she wasted no time in pulling the under tunic over his head as well. His well muscled chest appeared and sent her already pounding heart racing. She removed the golden hand next, dropping it to the floor without a care. 

She didn't like the adornment and had expressed that hatred before. In her eyes he was perfect, the scars made him the man she loved. Each told a story. Some, like his missing hand, told the story of their love. He bent forward, dragging his lips along the column of her throat, sucking and biting, leaving marks with his teeth and his beard; while his left hand slid up and down her thigh, bring her leg up and over his hip, his long fingers cupping the edge of her ass, squeezing. Where his hand touched, grabbed and held onto, flames ignited. 

Brienne carded her fingers through the coarse hair on his chest, scraping lightly over his nipples with her nails and he responded by nipping a little harder. Her increasing moans and his words of encouragement- _yes, I love your hands on me._ , _Fuck, Brienne, you feel so good_ \- filled the room. Her head hit the door with a thud when she tried to give him more skin to explore. She let out a grunt of pain at the knock to her skull. He chuckled, she jokingly glared at him and Jaime pulled his wicked lips from her heated flesh. She whimpered at the lost of his mouth on her. He laughed huskily again and slid his hand down her arm, taking her hand in his and leading her to the massive bed.

He spun them around so that the back of her legs hit the mattress and gave her a tiny shove. Brienne laughed lightly. The sound was so foreign to her ears, she couldn't remember the last time she expressed mirth so freely. Jaime climbed over her as she moved further up the bed. The lion stalking his prey- her insides quivered with anticipation. He noticed and grinned his predatory smile- all teeth, heat and _promise_. When her head met the soft down feather pillows, he dipped his head back to her neck, his good hand held tightly to her hip, bruises would bloom there tomorrow, a reminder of him on her skin. Her hands couldn't stay still on his body. She mapped out his muscles, enjoying the feeling of them rippling and bunching under her touch. The hand at her hip, moved to pull down the neck of her shift to expose the tops of her breasts. She opened her legs, cradling him between them. She felt his hard cock against her and she arched up, needing more, needing him. She whined in the back of her throat. Jaime wasn't a quiet lover either, but he preferred to tell her what he wanted to do to her. 

“Brienne, I want to fuck you until neither of us can walk tomorrow,” he punctuated the statement with his hand pressed against her sex, she was so wet, she should be embarrassed- but she was nothing close. “I want you covered in my scent, I want to be covered in yours.” He licked a trail down her throat. “Fuck! You smell so good.”

_Oh Gods_ she felt her mouth go dry. She wanted that too. So fucking bad. What was he doing to her? Her sensibilities were gone, the only thing that remained was pure desire. Her hands scrambled to his breeches, pulling at the strings. He brought his mouth back to hers, kissing her so deeply it felt like he was seeking out her soul. 

Brienne gave it to him willingly. It was already his anyway. He lifted her tunic up, sliding his hand along her side, tickling her rib cage. She pulled away from his mouth, twisting from his wandering hand, laughing breathlessly. He knew she was ticklish there. Jaime found out one night in Winterfell. The look on his face when he had realized just how ticklish she was spelled her doom. He used his advantage of being over her to lock her rotating hips in place and settled more firmly against her. She surged up into him again. Her hardened nipples rubbing roughly against the material of her shift. He pushed the material further up so her breasts were on display for him. Jaime cupped one of her breasts in his hand and a lightning bolt shot through her. 

“Oh Gods,” she gasped. It's been so long but her body recognized his touch. “Please...”

He watched her, his eyes more black than green now. “Please what, Brienne?” That voice was pure sex- dark and dangerous and it caused more wetness to coat her cunt. He mouthed at her throat as his thumb and forefinger rolled one of her hard nipples. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want,” she lifted her head and kissed along his strong jaw. “I need...please...I need _more_.”

“Do you want me to remove your tunic?”

“Yes,” she nodded desperately. Her hands falling to his sides, gripping him to her and lifting her hips to create the friction she needed. 

His forehead settled on her shoulder and he trembled, “Brienne unless you want this night to end before it begins,” he told her, his voice was tight, but she could see his resolve to take this moment slow slipping, “I ask you not to do that. My poor old body can't take it and I really don't want to peak in my breeches like a green squire.” She bit her bottom lip, her hands roaming over his back, grazing the top of his ass, he groaned before he claimed her mouth again. “Wench.”

Somehow, thankfully her tunic and his pants ended up in a crumbled pile on the floor. She buried her nose into the crook of his neck and inhaled his scent. It was leather, sweat and Jaime and her mouth watered. She tentatively flicked her tongue out to taste him, savoring the flavor. _If this is a dream I will fucking kill someone._ She thought with a growl.

“Not a dream my lovely wench,” Jaime's voice rumbled through him. He trailed a fingertip along the edge of her small clothes. Her embarrassment over speaking her thoughts out loud gave way to another round of heat. She didn't know how much more she could take and told him that. He looked into her eyes, rolling off of her to remove the last piece of clothing on her body. “I don't know what I did right in my life to have you,” he drug his lips across her collarbone and his finger climbed back up her thigh, tracing patterns on the pale skin, “but whatever it was I'm so fucking happy I did it.”

She would have laughed had he not picked that moment to circle her clit with his finger. Her breath caught in her throat and she clenched harder at his shoulders, nails digging in. His lips continued the journey down her chest, stopping to lap at one breast before moving on to the next. Brienne couldn't think. Her entire world shrunk down to this man and the pleasurable torture he was inflicting on her. Her hands fell away from his body, coming to rest on the bed.

Jaime used his tongue to draw circles around her navel. She gripped the sheets in her fists, praying to the Gods that this feeling would never end. He dropped to the ground between her legs and blew hot air against her most private part. She jumped, leaning up on her elbows to watch him. His expression turned wicked and wanton. The lion knew he had caught his quarry. Brienne shivered at the voracious expression. She really was his prey and she couldn't find it in her to be scared, in fact it made more liquid heat pool low in her belly. 

His eyes never left hers as he leaned forward and tasted her. His tongue tracing and licking and he hummed against her cunt. Her head fell back and he stopped. Her heart was in her throat. What if he changed his mind?

“I want those eyes on me, Brienne,” he sucked at her hip bone. “I need them.” She couldn't say no. Her head felt heavy but she raised it and met his gaze. “Gorgeous,” he said huskily before returning to her cunt. “Mine.”

“Gods yes,” she moaned. “Yours.”

Jaime nodded. His mouth doing delicious and devious things to her. His name, dirty prayers- _For the love of the seven, don't fucking stop, Jaime Lannister. Don't ever fucking stop or I'll send you to the stranger myself!_ , and mindless grunts filled the room as he worked magic with his tongue and fingers. Their eyes stayed locked, even when she wanted to close hers and give into the sensations he was creating, she kept them on his. He had two fingers working furiously inside of her before adding a third, bending them in such a way that her mind blanked and a dam burst inside her. She shook from the power of her peak and broke the eye contact. Starbursts exploded inside of her. She screamed his name over and over, not giving a damn who heard. 

It felt like hours before she stopped feeling the aftershocks. He crawled up her body, slanting his lips over hers in a filthy kiss. She tasted herself and him and was drunk on the flavor. The head of his cock entered her slowly. She felt the delightful stretch of her body accommodating his girth and pressed herself onto him. He stilled, his breathing erratic, his eyes closed tightly. 

“You're so tight,” he stared down at her. “So wet. For me. Only for me.” He bit into her shoulder, lapping at the sore spot with his tongue.

“Only you,” she confirmed as he pushed more firmly into her. 

He rolled his hips in a tight circle and she met his thrusts with one of her own. Jaime pushed her legs up so that her knees bent and it was like an explosion went off inside of her. She dug her blunt nails into the muscles in his back, scratching and holding on. He let out a grunt, pushing into her harder. His hips snapping into hers. He took her nipple into his mouth, tugging gently at the other. Brienne lost the ability to speak. She heard herself moan and pant and beg nonsense to him over the roaring in her ears. He wasn't in a much better place. Her name falling from his lips over and over was the only word she understood. He reached down between them and rolled her clit with his thumb, pressing firmly. She stiffened as wave after wave of pleasure crashed into her. Above her, Jaime thrust harder and faster, bending her legs a little more and _oh fuck, yes!_. She broke again only this time she felt him fall into the abyss as well, while he shouted her name and his love for her. Somehow through all the intensity she managed to watch, she saw him shake with emotion and saw his muscles clench as he spilled into her. A bead of sweat slid down his forehead and fell onto her. Their scents and panting breaths mingled in the room. 

Jaime held her gaze. So much could be seen in those eyes of his. It was almost more than she could take but she was sure her eyes reflected as much emotion. He bit into the skin of her shoulder again, sucking at the wound. She leaned up and returned the love bite. Cupping her lips on his skin and licking at the side of his neck as they came down from the cloud they were currently on. Slowly her heart rate returned to normal and her legs started to ache from the position they were in. She eased herself flat onto the mattress, careful to not lose contact with Jaime. He sighed, wrapping his good arm around her and rolling them over so he was on his back and she was curled into his side. His stump rested on the bed, hidden from her eyes. She reached over his stomach and took it in her hand, bringing the scar to her lips. Brienne heard his breath catch but he didn't comment on it. They laid like that until the chill in the air became too much and he gathered the fur from the bottom of the bed, covering them. 

Brienne returned to his side. Her fingers ran up and down his arm, never once shying away from the scars at his wrist. The puckered skin was a part of him and she loved everything that made up Jaime Lannister. Gods help her. She smiled a little.

“Hmm,” he ran his nose down her throat, leaving scratches from his beard. “I love your smile.” Her grin got larger at his admission. “I love the feel of you against me.” He lifted his head, kissing her quickly. “How quick can your father make it to Kings Landing?”

“It will take a fortnight at least,” she said as he continued to kiss her senseless. “Why?”

“Well,” kiss on her chin, “you,” to her right cheek, “wouldn't,” another on her left, “marry,” the tip of her nose, “me,” her right temple, “without,” left temple, “him,” back to her lips. He pulled back and grinned at her dazed expression. “Since I don't intend to leave you be, we should let him know that his presence is requested for the wedding of his daughter. And soon.”

She blushed, “He will want to meet you. I'm sure he will have some words for you as well.” Brienne arched her brow, “He will not appreciate you asking me to marry you without his permission.” 

Her tone was teasing, but only slightly. Selwyn would have words for Jaime. Not that Jaime couldn't handle himself just fine. For all the bluster, her father was a romantic deep down. Which is why he never remarried. His heart, like hers, was stubborn.

“I'm sure I can win him over.” Jaime was confident. His body relaxed from being well bedded and in the knowledge that he would make her father love him.

“What makes you so sure?” Brienne arched her brow.

“I charmed you didn't I?” Jaime grinned that sinful smile and heat started pooling between her legs again. “You made it hard on me- very _hard_ ,” He leered at her, she- of course blushed from the top of her head to the tips of her toes- “but I eventually claimed your heart. If I can do that. Your father will be no bother.” 

“So sure of yourself,” she murmured as he played with her nipples and his mouth settled over hers.

“Mmm-hmm,” he nodded. 

They kissed lazily and caressed each other. Building the need back up slowly. Jaime once again told her all he wanted to do to her. 

“I want you on top,” he said between long kisses. “I want to watch your strong, sexy body move over mine.” Her breathing started becoming more erratic. “I want to feel your legs around my waist as you find your pleasure and take me with you.” 

_Damn this man knew how to talk._

“I want your blue eyes on mine when you scream my name.” He scraped his teeth along her collarbone. She reached down between them to cup his cock. She stroked him in the way he taught her. His tone started to changed. The swell of sexual need back and strong, “Fuck, Brienne. Just like that. So fucking good.” 

His left hand moved between her legs and he pushed two fingers into her. Her head rolled to the side but she locked her gaze with him. Her eyes on his seemed important to him. It was becoming important to her as well. They continued to drive the other to the brink- Jaime's hand making her pant, her hand making him whisper more desires into her ear- until he finally pulled his fingers from her and her hand away from him. 

She moaned deeply as he pulled her on top of him until she was settled over his hardening manhood. She looked down in question, this was still new to her. They only tried this position a few times. But she remembered it felt different, it felt _good_. He licked his lips, lifting her just a little so he could push into her once more. Brienne rolled her hips, riding him slowly, testing her power over him. She took pleasure in making his eyes roll back, as she caressed his body in time with her thrusts. She pulled gently at his hair, making it easier for her to kiss him soundly. Swallowing her name, giving him her moans. His stump rested at her back, right above her ass. She reached behind her, taking the arm in her hand. 

Even with all the times she touched it tonight, he still looked amazed she wanted to. Her expression softened and her movements slowed. “Every part of you Jaime.”

Understanding filled his vision and he touched the scars on her shoulder from the bear, her crooked nose and her face that everyone else deemed too ugly. “Every part of you, Brienne.”

Tears gathered in her eyes and she kissed him again. Her hips moved quicker as her need built. She pulled away, her head falling forward, her forehead on his shoulder. Before too long he met her movements with his own, sitting up and gathering her close, his mouth over hers. It wasn't the waves crashing into her this time, but a gentle warmth that left her sated and loose. 

Jaime spilled inside of her, holding her though the tremors. She never wanted to be anywhere else but in his arms. She finally felt whole again. 

“I love you,” she whispered into the sweaty hair on his forehead. 

“I love you,” he said softly against her cheek. He pulled back just enough to see her, “I'll never leave you again.” He told her earnestly. His eyes serious as if her belief in him was all that mattered.

Brienne smiled, caressing his cheek softly, “I believe you, Jaime. I know you will not leave me again.” Then she kissed him. “And I will not leave you. I am yours as you are mine.”

Jaime gathered her close. “I am yours as you are mine.” 

_Forever,_ they both thought as sleep claimed them.

\----><\---

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please, please let me know what you think. Kudos give me life and comments bring me joy.


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